


Where Thou Art

by fragile-teacup (Mrs_Gene_Hunt)



Series: Marriage [10]
Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Anal Sex, Anniversary, Edgeplay, Fluff and Smut, Hannibal Loves Will, M/M, Post-Season/Series 03, Swearing, Will Loves Hannibal
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-27
Updated: 2017-12-27
Packaged: 2019-02-22 15:47:39
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,000
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13170105
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Mrs_Gene_Hunt/pseuds/fragile-teacup
Summary: 'Where thou art - that -is Home.'Emily DickinsonA 1000 word post-TWOTL fic. The seventh timestamp for The Marriage of Heaven and Hell, set shortly after the ending of Volume 3.Written as a Tumblr giveaway fic foraccio-sodium.I'mfragile-teacupon Tumblr. Drop by for a visit any time!





	Where Thou Art

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Vindarna](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Vindarna/gifts).



It's early on a Sunday when he first sees the house. Turquoise paint peeling, a couple of railings missing from the wrought iron balcony, art nouveau windows with smudged panes. They're strolling back to their beachside villa from the Museo Nacional de Bellas Artes. Old Havana at dawn, streets quiet, air sticky.

Shrugging off his tux jacket and slinging it over his shoulder, Will tucks his arm through Hannibal's and glances wistfully at the facade as they pass. 

'Nice.'

Hannibal looks unimpressed, his only response a non-committal hum.

Will tries again. 'It looks unoccupied.'

'I can see why.'

And that's that.

Until they pass it again a few days later. Late afternoon this time, on their way back with armfuls of fresh produce from the local market. 

'Still empty,' Will comments.

'Still clear to see why.'

Perhaps a different tack?

***

'You know, this dining room is far too small to throw the sort of lavish dinner parties you're used to.'

Hannibal looks up briefly from the salad he's tossing, head tilting in consideration. 'As it has been several years since I have had the opportunity to throw a _lavish_ dinner party, it is no longer something that I am used to.'

Will casts a look around the open plan space, frustration bubbling up inside. The villa is smart, chic, gleaming... and he hates it.

'This place has no soul,' he mutters. 'It's so damn modern.'

'You like our house in Cienfuegos,' Hannibal comments, setting the salad aside and reaching for small glass bottles of olive oil and balsamic vinegar, 'and it is just as modern as this.'

Will scowls, watching Hannibal's deft movements as he prepares a fresh dressing, sweet peppery scent permeating the kitchen as he crushes and chops various herbs. 

'That's different.' Moodily he plays with the stem of his wine glass, leaning against the central island. 'You designed that house – it has your stamp all over it. Of course I love it.'

Sudden softness in Hannibal's eyes. 'We'll be back there again soon.'

'But we spend most of our time here now. Between your wine tasting club –'

'Your games of chess in the park –'

'The pretty much year-round festivals you love so much –'

'Your strays.' 

Will tries for an innocent look. Gets arched brows in response.

'Don't think I haven't noticed the scraps that disappear after every meal.'

'We do have Ceph,' Will points out triumphantly.

Hannibal snorts. 'Who would be the approximate weight of a baby elephant if it was all going to her.'

As if summoned, Ceph trots into the kitchen. Will crouches automatically to stroke her glossy brindle coat, rub behind her ears. 

'The point is, if Havana is going to be our main base, I would prefer our home to be one that I actually enjoy spending time in.'

Hannibal doesn't reply, and with a defeated sigh Will heads upstairs to shower and change.

***

'Stay still.' 

'Ha-Hannibal.'

' _Still._ ' 

Barely more than a murmur but it's enough to slow his frantic thrusts. Buried deep, hands curled around Hannibal's hips, Will presses his forehead to his husband's back. Groans.

'Shh. I want to feel you. I want you to feel me.'

_Oh god, yes._

Closes his eyes and _feels._ The tight clutch around his leaking cock; skin dewy under his touch, sweet on his tongue; a heart that beats fast only for him. For _them._ A whimper escapes and Hannibal shudders beneath him. 

'Move, Will.'

He pulls out slowly and pushes back in with equal care. Again, a little faster. Again. Again. The slick slide pulling moans and sighs from both of them.

'Come, my darling boy. Come for me.' A possessive growl that tips Will over into white hot need and both of them into pulsing release.

They collapse together, panting. Will shifts onto his side; feels fingers sifting through his curls, stretching them taut, winding them around and around. 

'I need another cut.'

'Don't you dare.' The fingers tighten.

'This was fine for Virginia but it's too hot here. You've kept your hair short,' Will points out dryly. 

Cool breath blows across his nape, lips seeking and nuzzling. Sharp teeth close around one damp curl, tugging sharply. Will gasps, neck arching, cock twitching.

'Would you deny me this pleasure?' 

A long-suffering sigh, but he's smiling as he turns into the security and strength of Hannibal's arms. 

***

July bleeds into August. Rooted now in Havana and a slower pace of life. Gentled by contentment, their monsters slumber. It’s enough just to live and love. _For now._

The third time Will passes the house, he's alone. Glances up in surprise at the freshly-painted facade, restored balcony, gleaming windows. For a moment he stands there, admiring the carved wooden door, the slim pillars engraved with intricate floral patterns, the delicate plaster moulding running the length of the flat roof. Allows himself a moment of faint regret before he turns and walks away.

'Looks like that old house on Cárdenas Street is being renovated,' he says as they walk hand-in-hand along the beach after dinner. 'It's a beauty.' 

'Really?' 

Hannibal sounds bored. A flash of hurt prompts Will to tug his hand free. 

'I sincerely hope you feel the same way when you've seen inside it. I have a feeling the damn place is going to be a money pit.'

'What?' Will jerks to a stop and stares at Hannibal. 'Repeat that, please.'

Hannibal reclaims Will's hand, eyes intent, sly smile lurking. 'Happy anniversary, Will.'

'Oh, for fuck's sake. Come here.'

A gentle palm to Hannibal's cheek, a tender kiss to lips which open hungrily to him. Sweet sweep of tongues, bodies pressed together, hands dipping beneath clothing to roam greedily. The kiss deepens, arousal blooming in a familiar delicious ache. Will pulls away, cheeks flushed, lashes wet.

‘How the hell I’m going to top that, I don’t know. But thank you.’

‘How? _Come live with me and be my love._ ’

Will smiles and wraps his arms around Hannibal’s waist. He understands.

_We are each other's home._


End file.
